


Drabbles of Many Kind, both terrible and not

by Phoenixgriffin260



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Body Modification, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Horror, Illustrations, M/M, Multi, Other, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixgriffin260/pseuds/Phoenixgriffin260
Summary: I'm just dumping everything here. Danganronpa characters are mine, friends or Bastart ' s next gen. Will likely have depressing themes that might trigger you. I advise you read the tags closely.





	1. One, Two, I wish your blood wasn't blue

**Author's Note:**

> TW: blood , graphic detail of wounds.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chouko finds a way to subdue the class nightmare.

Pictured above is chouko. 

 

 [Knife song](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=h1LQWyOWc0w)

Chouko smiled, a grotesque grin settling upon her face, dusty maroon eyes darkening as she pulled out a pen, scribbling names upon her fingers. She was silent. The room was silent, all except for heavy breathing. The literal red-head spread her fingers, a knife drawn from  her pocket resting between her other hand's fingers.

"I think ya' know this song. There is an old tradition, a game we all can play," She began, keeping her eyes locked with the shorter male's violet ones.  **Thunk,** the knife goes, between Chouko's fingers.  "You start by getting liquored up and sharpening your blade,"  **Thunk,** at a faster pace. "You take a shot of whiskey, you grab your knife and pray..."  **Thunk,** narrowly missing the first name. Her hair frames the scene. "And spread apart your fingers, and this is what you say!" A faint ripping noise, like somebody tearing paper. Blood wells up on the tip of the knife, staining, but she continues. Ink seeps into the wound, darkening the blood further. One name skinned off her fingers. 

"Oh,  I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop," The marble underneath is wet with the visceral liquid. "If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off," She laughs, leaning forwards and picking up speed again. "And If I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out," Chouko roughly grabs the hilt. "But all the same I play this game cause thats what it's all about!" Again, she slices through her next finger, peeling the murderer's name off her flesh, veins struggling to bind the two.  It continues. 

Every time a verse stops, the next name is torn off. No bone can be seen, but somebody gags. The room has such a heavy odor of blood you could taste it, as if somebody was bleeding into your open mouth. 

It continues. 

It continues. 

Nobody thinks it will stop. 

The blood doesn't. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shsl knife thrower.


	2. I got art from bastart!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastart was kind enough to draw the little drabble!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://bastart13.tumblr.com is where the characters are found! Please support her, as she gives me motivation to write and has a lot of characters ahead.


	3. Three, Four, The body's under the floor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ḛ̡͓̥̼̰̱͈͔̏̐̏̅͊̚͢R̵̛͙͍͓̻͇̙̼̽̍̏̂͑͗͐́͡Ȓ̡̨̢̻̥͓̍́͐̊̈́͗̍̾͟͡Ò̢̧̹͚̜͍̺͑̀͒͜R̨̛̹̭̫̞̮̰̖͐̇̃̔̄͌̎͂͠ has been found Guilty!

**Shiori Ludenberg has been proven.. GUILTY. It's punishment time!**

 

His gloves, snugly fit to his hands, have become stiff in the air, ends clamped under freezing chains. A similar chain is clasped around his throat tightly, scarf threaded through the loops to make an almost bittersweet mockery- his own scarf, choking him...

Then he yelped, the first noise of suprise he had ever made in the game, a cry already hoarse without strain. The chains tugged, tearing tendons throughout his arms and ripping muscle. Tears well at the edge of his eyes, and he closes them. To shield himself from gazes both emotional and indifferent.

He does not feel the pulling cease, instead feeling it become more frantic, as if searching for a lost treasure. Blood floods his skin, yet never seeps out, turning the almost paper-white albino skin the pink of flesh abused.

 Eyes are scrunched shut, eyelashes drenched in the lifefluid quickly drying and sealing them closed with a magenta haze.

Before long, inaudible, internalised wailing fills his mind, hands forced together and binded. He kneels, shakily, as Monokuma laughs, loud and boisterous. 

A guillotine lowers with minimal noise, blade tip resting against the bone of the neck, waiting. Waiting. And--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiori Ludenberg, shsl ?m?l?y??s?i?t??e?a?r?r?y


	4. Five, Six, these aren't tricks.

 

She steps forwards, cape limply hanging behind her as she tapped the mic. Raising her hand up, she frowns, gaze casting towards the group below her. "So what are you gonna hit me with next? Darwin or a Crucifix?" Yuutou hissed, slamming her hand down on the podium. 

"Why do you force us? It's always so extreme- so what's it really mean?" She continues, dark and dull seafoam eyes raking over the congregation, challenging them.

"You call each other sick, and yet you keep watching them. Watching me-" she laughs, the cape shadowing her legs as she shifts, putting weight on the right foot. "You're all addicted to what you hate, what you love, and everything related. You cannot stop, can you?" A small smile settles on her face. "You can't. Try it. It's already too late. There is one thing left." 

A nebulous haze, choking and thick, hovers over them. Yuutou chuckles, whispering into the mic. "So.. you kill your conscience. Cry yourself to sleep. Do what I say."

 

_**Better you than me.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuutou Ouma - SHSL Cult Leader


	5. Danganronpa Goretober

I'm going to do it out of order fyi


	6. Gasping for air

 

He chuckled, slipping into the pool, wrapping his scarf like a snake around the banister. He lazily thew the non - swimming clothes (that is, his jacket and baggy pants) onto the railing higher up, squinting to see if they made it- safely. 

They did. 

Chikayoshi grins to himself. 

He kicks off from the pool wall, turning onto his back and spreading his weight across the surface. The slightly disturbed water lapped gently over his arms, not tugging them down but not leaving them either. Arriving at the other wall, he scales down the side, feet slipping on the almost... scaly feeling tiles. One slips, and sends him cascading into the water, it now dragging him to the depths. 

He goes limp, air streaming from his lungs, screaming. Slowly, he kicks, angling himself to the surface as wasp buzzing fills his ears. 

It's loud and violent, hissing words and swears at him. Flies swarm into his vision, the nearby buzzing only adding to the chaos. Chikayoshi feels desperate, clawing at the insects clouding his vision, only to watch more fill every corner he can see. 

Blood burns his throat, nails tearing at the skin, chlorine seeping into the wounds, water flooding his mouth. 

Every inch of him burns. 

He gasps.


	7. Teeth, filed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaden itches. He knows he's not supposed to- was never supposed to. 
> 
> He reaches for the file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: body modification, teeth, self harm/suicidal thoughts

Kaden scratches at his arm, where he always does- there's accidental scars and scabs in the contained space, hidden from view by his neon yellow wool jumper. 

He hopes nobody thinks he self harms, because he doesn't, he promises to himself, even when the urge whispers at the corner of his mind. 

Frowning, he sighs. 

Of course they would. 

Now he needs a distraction. A distraction, one that wouldn't kill him. 

His hands automatically close around the cool, comforting metal of the file at the edge of his bedstand. He runs his tongue over his teeth. 

Blunt. 

Kaden shivers to himself. Blunt. No way to fight back if he wa- 

The file hit his teeth before he finished the thought, the grating noise oddly peaceful to his ears, the metallic sting of blood a welcome sensation. 

The tiny flakes of flesh he hit was swallowed, ignored. 

He had to get the blunt canines away, even if it meant bleeding. 

 

Maybe he didn't expect a corpse.


End file.
